I love going to the beach. Packing a cooler with snacks and bevs, assembling a group of friends, laying down a cluster of towels, and getting a little crispy together is one of the highlights of my summer, every summer. On a perfect beach day, it feels like nothing can go wrong under the azure sky. But one thing consistently bursts that bubble and—dare I say—fucks up the vibe. That thing, that scourge, is hearing a stranger’s bad music at the beach.
Playing music at the beach is a dick move, and I call on all of us to stop doing it.
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I understand that people like to listen to music when they’re outside. On any other body of water, I say: Go for it. Take your speaker on the boat, blast tunes at the lake, make a playlist for tubing on the river, crank that shit at the pool! Whatever! But the ocean comes with its own gorgeous, natural soundtrack—a soundtrack so soothing that it puts babies and insomniacs to sleep—and I do not want it drowned out by someone’s “summer vibes >>>>>>>>>>” playlist.
Music at the beach is a rejection of life’s simple pleasures, the bounty of nature—taking paradise and putting up a parking lot, to quote a song I definitely would not play oceanside. What about the elemental pleasure of hearing waves crash against the sand isn’t enough for some people? Do you really need to listen to “Peaches” by Justin Bieber more urgently than you need to listen to the Earth’s very heartbeat? And, more importantly: Do you need me to listen to it with you, at a lower but still unignorable volume?
If the beach music du jour was only coming from one person, I could grit my teeth and suck it up. If the playlist was unintrusive, something lilting and instrumental, I could maybe even get into it. But it’s never just one person, and it’s always obnoxious—a bunch of impromptu DJs in discrete groups participating in an unspoken “loudest song” competition, their entries fuzzing out from Bluetooth speakers to create jittery, disturbing cacophony. If you’ve ever felt moved to listen to Bruce Springsteen, Kodak Black, Britney Spears, and Kygo at the same time, boy do I have a setting for you.
Let me be perfectly clear: I don’t think it should be illegal to play music on the beach. I don’t even think it should be a lifeguard-whistle offense. I just think it should be treated like the faux pas it is, like picking your nose in public or wearing flip flops as an adult. And for those who aren’t satisfied with the ocean as a soundscape, who aren’t sufficiently stimulated by our planet’s majesty, which existed eons before us and will churn on long after, I have fantastic news for you. Headphones exist, and I encourage you to try them.
Katie Way is a senior staff writer at VICE. Follow her on Twitter.